


Disturbance

by sentimentsandsemblance (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Castiel Works in a Bookstore, Light BDSM, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 03:11:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5727529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sentimentsandsemblance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Retrograde Amnesia, and nothing but two names and responses that are not as heightened as any adult in the US. And just when he starts to get life back together, he wounds up somewhere from fresh bookstore owner to being a framed prostitute to a client that slowly will not leave Castiel alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Disturbance

**Author's Note:**

> No fingers and thumbs were harmed in the making of this fanfic.
> 
> This is my first Destiel fanfic, and this is just a preface of the whole story. Comments and kudos can be the determinant of the continuation of this story.

PRELUDE: DISTURBANCE.

Living in Kansas is both a blessing and sort of a curse. And for Castiel, the story could not be more swayed to the curse part. The apartment he is living in now is bare of any furniture, with only the wooden floor, laced with a thin layer of dust due to little attention from any owner or landlord, being the main centrepiece of the room. The walls, too, are bare of any picture frames, wallpapers and decorations that would serve the ultimate purpose of hanging or sticking one; making it more impressionable.

The only thing that is present in the apartment are an electric kettle, fridge, bathroom and an old mattress, that stank heavily of musk. The windows are old, but not too old to the point of disuse, or else it would cause more money to be splurged on for an air conditioning set and the place feeling like a sauna without it. There are no pros for having neither one of the options.

He rented the apartment out of pity, though. It was old and fairly dilapidated, but under the assurance of his landlord, the place will be better when he finds a job and owns enough money to purchase furniture to liven the entirety of the apartment. Small, but just apt for a guy like him.

It was strange, though. People pitied him, because from what he had overheard, they said that he was a sod who had a case of retrograde amnesia, and with no medical documents to even verify his past conditions, and from their lack of medical judgments – one that haven't been developed by high school dropouts – did they proffered the space for him, and they couldn't help but feel more pity for him to give him a place that doesn't meet the requirements of any person wanting to living in.

The only think that he can remember from his damaged memory is his name. Castiel. When asked of his last name, the next name that he can picture coming in to his mind, was Novak. And so they went along with it. Castiel Novak.

Few days later, they gave him a tour around the community of Lawrence, Kansas. They're quite close-knit, as Castiel observed that everyone knows each other on a first name basis, something Castiel feels so puzzled about, and he wondered if they are in any state of danger. So he asked and their reaction towards the question brought laughter, and assurance that they were in no means in any danger. He nodded, albeit confusingly as they continued giving them the layout, such as the location of the convenience store, clinic and hospital is located just by the border of the town. Not far, and most people use the hospital should there be any emergencies. Life-threatening ones, at that. There is also a local pub, active crazily by the night, tending to the fanatics of football, and dating couples that cannot seem to get their hands off each other. Plus, the inconspicuous latching of lips.

He was also introduced to garage, where he meets a man by the name of Bobby Singer, who is gruff and wasn't all smiles and sunshine like the other people the men introduced Castiel to, only to be comforted by the fact that Bobby has always been a laconic kind. He nodded silently.

The bookstore is somewhere just next to the garage, seemingly abandoned by the public due to the dearth of attention towards books, something Castiel seemed to frown upon his first encounter with the said store. The owner apparently left because of promotion, with the men saying how disgusted with the joy that he exuded when he found a place that was far better than the god forsaken piece of town they were in, something that caused Castiel to frown deeper. Since then, no one has felt interested or inclined to replace the man. The only trace of ownership belonged to an elderly woman, who's dying and the only thing that would make her happy, is someone to helm the position as owner of the bookstore.

They left the bookstore, with Castiel having a small flicker of desire to fulfil the lady's wish.

The men returned Castiel alone, with their hopeful, smiling faces that Castiel is familiar with his new surroundings. A terrain that is easy to adapt too, at least that's what one of the men said to him. Needless to say, Castiel was lucky he had saved himself from embarrassment of how to use the shower. His 'amnesia' didn't deter nor remove him knowledge of basic skills, like changing clothes, which he did, with old clothes from his landlord, with sizes that were of perfect fit for him. It smelled different, and Castiel didn't complain. He was please to be out of the dress shirt tucked in his slacks and shoes that were not his cup of tea. He felt more comfortable with wearing a jacket over his shirt. And jeans that didn't need to be ironed? _Even better._

But that was three weeks ago.


	2. Old & Awaited

  1. OLD AND AWAITED.



Castiel wakes up, with his blue eyes peering at the wooden floor in front of him. He blinks once more, and the image before him turns clearer. He is wearing nothing but a black shirt with some pajamas pants. He shifts slightly, and then groans over the soreness of his muscles that have been disused for only a few hours. He looks up at the ceiling and stares at it, wondering how his day will turn up for now. Nothing comes into mind and Castiel sighs, before rubbing his face with his bare hands. He lays under the mess of sheets and brightness of the room hampers his mood to return to sleep. Then again, he has never been the type to slack with the life he's living.

His room, well. . . Its not really a room yet, but it will get there. There is only a mattress that covers almost 1/10 of the wooden floor. Jobless, Castiel manages to live through the days with the help of Kevin; the landlord of the area. He passed the mattress on the first day and Castiel was grateful that he didn't need to sleep on the concrete or wooden floor for the rest of his newfound life. The only other thing that covers the rest of his room is the pile of clothes that lay at the corner of the room. The clothes were too given by Kevin, saying that the clothes are too old for his own use and he thought that they may fit Castiel's body just fine. Castiel took them anyway, regardless of its size.

He gets up and then looks at the half empty glass of water. He picks the glass up and drinks the remnants of liquid inside it. He can feel his throat being replenished and the clarity that goes through his mind runs clearer. He finally stands up and walks to window, where most of his view is blocked by the brick building placed next to it. It didn't matter, though, as Castiel only looks at the sky. So far, Lawrence looks sunny and bright, a positive indication that it is okay to leave the place.

He walks back to the mattress and lays there, thinking that maybe going out will give him a clear idea on how he is going to pull through of his life. The room is fantastic, don't get him wrong, but having just a mattress and a glass of water by its side is not going to be the only furniture that his apartment is going to have. He remembers of the bookstore that the old dying lady owns and wonders if she would give the place to him for his only dependence of a normal life. He didn't mind whether people were giving him worried looks, but if they were worried they'd offer their help rather than just looking at him and waiting for some miracle to happen.

He gets up once more, thinking that it's time for a shower. He grabs the towel that lay by the side of his mattress. He walks to the bathroom and relieves his bladder first and foremost. He flushes the toilet and walks to the sink where a mirror/cabinet lays on the wall. He runs the tap where he starts washing his face gently. He then picks up a toothbrush and adds the small amount of toothpaste. He brushes his teeth exhaustively before rinsing his mouth with water. He looks at himself with the mirror and is glad that he doesn't have to shave the stubble that will inevitably covers his chin and jawline.

He peels his clothing, and walks into the shower, where the tap is turned by him. The water is warm at first and then slowly adapts to a normal temperature. Castiel washes his body, making sure that he cleans his body thoroughly before going out with a fresh set of clothes. He lathers his body with soap and then rinses it, before ending his shower on a clean note.

He gets out and pats his body dry, voiding every nook and cranny of his body of any excess water that stubbornly retains. He then goes out of the bathroom, where he spots the clothes and picks out the first ones he sees. He wears a black shirt along with some jeans that he feels thankful that he doesn't have to resort to the slacks like he did on the first day he found himself on the streets of Lawrence. He admits it, the idea of looking professional baffles him, and he thinks that there is a distinction between being professional and being mannered.

He hangs the towel by the window, hoping that the sunlight will dry it despite majority of the sun ray is blocked by the brick building. He then walks out of his room, and closes the door. Everything but the bedroom is bare of furniture. He goes into the kitchen, where only an unopened packet of crackers with a glass of water is present on the counter. Sounds sad, I know.

He takes the last packet of crackers and opens it. The inside holds three, and he eats them without complaints. He eats them slowly, with his mind being realistic on trying to convince his body that the three small crackers are enough for him to get through half the day. He downs the glass of water slowly and then sets the empty glass on the wooden table.

He goes out of his home, but not without wearing his shoes first. They're old but useable. He then walks down to the lobby with calm footsteps. He takes the stairs and smiles at the passersby who look at him going down. They didn't say anything and some smiled back with pity laced on their lips. He sighs as he reaches the next flight of stairs.

He sees Kevin, his hands completely swarmed with papers. He seems flustered, and understandably so as he has the phone ringing incessantly, asking for the following; available rooms, his payment of the monthly tax and some other things that he Castiel has no understanding of. Kevin sees him and offers him a buoying smile to him. He waves back before walking out of the building. Castiel doesn't mind the company, but being alone does have its moments.

He walks past the café, and ignores the looks that he receives. It's not like he has leprosy or anything, but the way they give eye to him sure makes him feel like one. He walks to the empty bookstore, and stares at the entrance for a moment. He wonders whether the lady will allow him to take care of it, and will she do such deed of entrusting him with such sentimental location.

He stands there for about an hour, before deciding purposively that it's time to ask. He walks in the building and walks up the stairs to the lady's home. He gives three knocks and hears the answer. Castiel opens the door and sees the lady sitting on her old rocking chair. She's holding a book in her hands, and doesn't mind the untimely interruption. Castiel closes the door behind him, before nearing to her.

She smiles when she sees him and Castiel takes a seat next to her, his eyes looking at the window, where unlike his place, the view is picturesque and an open prairie for his blue eyes to view the people walking by. The community is small, but lively and vivid with kids gamboling around like they're having a whale of a time.

The lady's house is small, maybe enough for one's residence. None of the items seems too old, just a slight period; which suits her time. Majority of her furniture are composed of canes. Unbelievable durable, if Castiel can prejudge. They look like they have been used for more than a decade. He sees some photos hung on the wall, all in black and white and framed beautifully for one's perusal. The old lady doesn't seem to think Castiel as a form of enmity as she continues flipping a page of her book. Castiel relaxes and sits quietly with her for a long time. Kevin never asks where he has gone to, anyway.

It has been almost half an hour before the lady finally closes her book and sets it down on her table. Castiel shifts slowly, feeling the faint soreness on his back. The lady relaxes once more, before breathing deeply. “The bookstore, you take it,” Castiel doesn't respond and the lady's smile widens by a millimeter before continuing, “I know you want it, and its yours now. My two sons will return once you claim it,”

How she manages to read his mind about his humble request remains a mystery to him, yet he keeps the part about her two sons into his mind deeply, allowing himself to be aware about the imminent return, “My husband has long died, and I have little time left here. There's a chest under my bed. Take it, would you?”

Castiel complies quietly by going to the bed. He bends down slowly and retrieves the said chest. Its slightly heavy, Castiel won't lie, and he is curious as to what may be inside it, “Open it when you get back home. That Asian kid will have one less problem when you move out of that unnecessarily large space of yours. Now, go. They will know about the next proprietary of the bookstore. Don't tell them what I told you. This stays between the dead and the only living thing that is here,”

The way she speaks almost catches Castiel off guard. It is as if she hasn’t aged a day, with her words coming out like sand through an hourglass. She doesn’t seem to be in pain too, and Castiel wonders what has she done to achieve such youthfulness.

Castiel doesn't say anything, even though the request seems all strange. He doesn’t press anymore than that, believing that his amnesia seems to be the last thing he needs to be wondering about so he follows the lady's words. He nears the door and before he can open it, he turns around and says, “Thank you,”

The lady only smiles in return.

He walks back home with the chest in his hands. What appeared to be a sunny day turned into a cloudy one, as dark, heavy and condensed clouds start to near Lawrence steadily fast. The faint rumble of thunder can be heard by people and some have retreated to the confines of the indoors, sheltering themselves from the imminent storm. Castile increases his pace and he consolidates his grip on the box, his confused expression almost imprinted on his face. Since when the weather takes such a drastic turn of events just moments after he had just talked to someone?

He finally reaches the apartment and opens the door to the building. The pelting of the rain begins almost immediately when he shuts the door, and Kevin is still at his table, his attention unperturbed by the heavy weather. The paper works still drown him but it seems lessened that it was this morning. Castiel walks on to the stairs, glad that Kevin's mind is solely focused on apartment issues. He gets to his place safely, and is relieved that the towel doesn't need to be hung outside. For what reason he thought of that, he doesn't know. Maybe it's repressed memories, or something.

He reaches his room, and sits down on the mattress. He places the metal box on the mattress and goes off to switch on the light. His curiosity threw him off for a moment, but he manages to regain his spirit back when he decides to remove his shoes, tossing it indiscriminately onto the floor. He sits down and watches the window as the clear screen is now being marred with droplets of water.

He re-focuses his attention to the box and with his delicate hands, he opens the chest, and in it reveals money. A wad of it. Castiel takes the thick bills out of the box and then explores the interior of it, trying to scourge more of what he can find besides money. He finds a photo, with a family in it. Who they are is another mystery to Castiel. He turns the photo and only a ‘MARY’ written in pen. He sets the photo down on to the mattress, leaving it for some unknown future use. He explores more and finds a key. He inspects it and then too set it aside.

As he goes on exploring, he soon finds a necklace. A feather, it sits well between the fairly long string. It looks like someone crafted it, but the rest of its origins remain mainly of assumptions in Castiel's mind. So the only thing he has now, is a key; money, a photo and lastly a necklace. He doesn’t want to wear the necklace and probably didn't need to anyway, as he can already feel that it doesn't belong to him.

He hears knocks from the apartment door and flusters. He is told not to reveal anything about the whole conversation and so he hurriedly hides the contents of the box back into it and as he struggles to find a secure and obscure place, he finally resorts to hiding it under the pillow, hopefully the shape not too obvious or suspicious.

He walks to the door hurriedly, and he stops when he reaches the door. He takes a deep breath, and tries to act calm from the small skirmish. The rapping of the door hasn't stopped and Castiel can feel his heart beating comparatively fast, and he breathes in again, praying that his composure doesn't falter of the person he is going to encounter. He finally opens the door and sees Kevin, whose hand is about to give another wave of knocks. Castiel gives a mental sigh of relief, his psyche almost convinced that it was someone of authority or an individual with a desire to satisfy his curiosity. Kevin looks at Castiel with his mouth opening and closing; trying to get his word across.

“Hey, you remember Mary Winchester, the sick lady that lives just above the bookstore?” Castiel nods slowly, asking himself how badly has he done his mini cloak and dagger activity. He never intended his day to be a day of secrets. All he was hoping for was the title of the bookstore. He can feel his spine running cold with the pause that Kevin takes. Kevin doesn't seem to notice his faltering composure, as he goes on with the words that Castiel has never thought would happen coincidentally.

“She's dead,”

 

 


	3. The New Bookstore Owner

  1. THE NEW BOOKSTORE OWNER.



He buttons his blazer and stares at the mirror before him. He turns to his left and then right, to see any abnormality forming as he wears the suit. He hears knocking on his door, and walks away from the mirror, effacing his chance to comment mentally at his new and formal look. Maybe his past embodiment has enjoyed wearing this look, but Castiel - if that’s really his name - today doesn’t seem to like it at all one bit. It looks so alien to him, and he prefers the trench coat to the blazer.

But there’s so little for him to complain.

A funeral was held for Mary Winchester. Many of the people in Lawrence were fond of her, even though her appearance in the public hasn't really been . . . public. Castiel is invited to funeral, and though he has never spoken about his encounter with her on her final day, Castiel goes through with the funeral with silent respect. Her funeral photo seems young and although its 2013, her age manages to surprise Castiel. She was a little over her sixties and the priest, who Castiel cannot help but feel respectful of the Christian religion, gives his recital of the Bible. Though he has just discovered his life a few weeks ago, he finds that his mind enjoys the recital, as strange as he may find it sounds.

Everyone is wearing black, from suits to dresses and nettings on their faces. Some are packed with tissues, with sobbing and mutterings gracing the atmosphere. Castiel and Kevin walk closely, with his mother by his side and their lips sewn shut. Castiel has never worn so much black in his life, and he doesn’t seem to like the palette choice of his clothing.

The funeral is full of people, and many sit with their heads down. Some clasps their hands along with the precessions and others with their own personal prayers being placed in the name of God. The funeral also runs short, and the lack of their sons’ presence make Castiel give a sad look throughout the funeral. Surely, one of the sons are alive or at least show some semblance of a human being.

Then again, he’d be a hypocrite if he didn’t go out all the way to find his own roots with the amnesia going on his life.

The crowd disperses from the graveyard, after people have given their personal eulogy and anecdotes on Mary Winchester. The wooden coffin stays motionlessly on the grassed veneer; with flowers embellishing the surroundings, both on the ground and the coffin itself. There are also some stuffed toys with cards laid next to the flowers, with their adorableness lighting the mood by a minute fraction. The photo of Mary is placed just next to the coffin, where her salad days’ look smiles and beauty adding to the mood lightening. Some held hands, even between strangers, as if they have shared an intrapersonal connection between each other. Castiel doesn’t mind the hand holding, since he takes them as a means of emotional support for them more than him.

He walks out of the cemetery without Kevin, who says his mother needs him. Castiel doesn’t mind the lack of company, as he is used to his whereabouts, to which brought immense relief for Kevin. He walks out alone, and is among the last few to take his leave off the graveyard. He watches as the undertakers execute their job, with their hands working industriously to make sure the grave is covered nicely before an embossed tombstone is erected. He can hear the people loitering around gossiping on how her two sons didn’t bother showing up, and somehow Castiel can’t help but feel the same but small tinge of bitterness towards their two sons, even though he has never seen them but in a photograph.

Again, hypocrisy.

As he walks out of the cemetery and into the town, he sees an exotic vehicle, the model Castiel cannot name due to his peanut-sized knowledge about vehicles, waiting nonchalantly outside. He looks at the vehicle and although he finds it impressive, ogling is probably the last of Castiel’s list of doings. A man is in there, with almost short hair, and a scruff that covers his chin and cheeks partially. His lips look almost pursed and the green eyes that look like a couple of peridots that gaze straight towards the gate that could almost burn holes there caught his attention the most. The man is dressed in black, exactly like the others who attended the funeral. He doesn’t seem to flinch or notice Castiel’s presence and from the looks of his hand relaxingly placing his arm on the window of the door, he looks as if the funeral isn’t something to be sad about. He looks relaxed. A bit too relaxed for Castiel’s liking. From his posture and hard expression, he almost looks smoldering.

He looks familiar, but the memory of his image is difficult to pinpoint since he has seen too many people over the course of his time in Lawrence. He doesn’t spend too much time thinking who the man is, as he confidently asserts that maybe it is just the amnesia - which Kevin’s term for it has rubbed off on him - talking.

He walks on back home, with his footsteps unchanging. He likes the walking, and some of the people, whom he has never met or encountered, offered him rides kindly and earnestly, to which Castiel’s politely declines. They complied acquiescently and Castiel continues his journey back home without interruption. The sky is overcast with dark clouds, but not to the extent where it is threatening for a storm.

He wonders if the concatenation of events were merely a happenstance. He hasn’t spoken about his last meeting with the dying woman, and he swears by his promise on keeping his lips zipped as tighter as vacuumed zip lock bag. No one has asked him whether he knows anything, and probably with ratified reasons too. You know, amnesiac guy equals least threatening man in the area, which I believe should have brought suspicion more than hostility. Either they’re too gullible or just nice.

Or maybe under some spell.

He reaches the apartment, and walks in to see many people all clad in black. Their chattering fills the room, and Castiel doesn’t feel like stopping for a chat. He walks on, ignoring the looks cast by them, for reasons Castiel don’t understand why they bother doing so. He hasn’t killed someone, directly at least. That doesn’t mean that he killed Mary though, just that maybe his appearance had something to do with it, as if it was all meant to be. He feels a hand grasped on his forearm, and Castiel almost jumps at the clothed contact. He turns to see Kevin with purpose in his eyes.

“Yes?” asks Castiel politely.

Kevin looks hesitant at first, before voicing out his words, “I know this isn’t really a good time to talk about this with. . . you know, but how’d you like to work in the bookstore?”


	4. Familiar Face

  1. FAMILIAR FACE.



The night makes one sound. The sound of rain. It has been raining endlessly and there are no cars passing the streets at this hour. It’s as if the town has a schedule; the city goes active at the crack of dawn and then goes dark and quiet as an abandoned alleyway. Castiel glances from his window, and despite the view being blocked by the next building, he can still hear the quietude of the small town. You can almost hear a pin drop at this rate.

His room is dark, forgoing the use of the lamp, which is understandable, since Kevin hasn’t really give full use of electricity to Castiel. He hasn’t got any money, and Kevin is afraid to pay for the extra incurrence for electricity. He doesn’t mind, though. He can at least feel the wind blowing and the rain pitter-pattering against the window, with the droplets percolating freely on the surface.

He stares at the spoils of his visit with Mary Winchester, with and the items are all laid out neatly on the bed. He inspects them without touching, as if the items are puzzles that link together with one another. None of the events that took place in the course of a day made any sense, but then again, when has any of this made sense.

Tomorrow will be his first day in a new environment. His clothes are now methodically placed inside a cardboard box, and his toiletries waiting to be packed after his last shower in the apartment. He inspects the photograph and he wonders where the house that they are standing in front of. Is it in Lawrence? Is it nearby? And where are the two kids today? He frowns deeper at the sepia toned photo. He sighs deeply before putting the items back in the metal box and then putting it aside by the mattress.

Money. Oh, with the wad of money that Castiel has, he’s almost sure that the first thing he needs to buy are food. He hasn’t gotten around to taste decent delicacies and his stomach so far has been amenable and patient, but even patience has its limits.  He could also go with some more clothes, and ones that fit and speak him, though he won’t lie that the hoodies - be it worn and baggy or new and fitting - have so far created a positive and clandestine liking from him. The key is something that Castiel manages to work out; for now, he can deduce that by its design, it’s probably the key to the bookstore or the home of Mary’s that he’s going to be living in for the next few days, months and years of his life.

He lays down on the mattress on his back; his head plopped onto the soft material of the pillow. Tomorrow, he will move to the same spot where Mary lived. Her belongings have been moved and stored as part of her will, but there’s no one to claim it and it has since been in storage until her children show up. That is, if the children themselves find out about the inheritance or the death of their mother even.

The reception of Castiel being the new bookstore owner is another conundrum that Castiel has yet to solve. How they never question about him being the owner and why they decide to re-open it builds up the confusion that is inside Castiel’s mind. Maybe the re-opening part is part of honoring her memory, but the part where they are entrusting the proprietary to Castiel? Castiel cannot help but frown, blink then shake his head in succession. Nobody seems to harbor any dissidence towards the man.

He gives a deep exhale through his mouth, and can feel the deflation of his body as a result of thinking about the moments played almost too quickly. He can feel his eyelids folding shut, and Castiel feels inclined to let it close, admitting that his thinking only brings more question than providing any answers. He can feel his body losing acting on its own, and Castiel sleeps to the sound of the rain.

Most people would bring a bunch of belongings out of their house, and Castiel feels like he’s under-brought anything. The only thing that he’s so far packed are the clothes given by Kevin, along with the toiletries and that box. And unlike most people leaving their home, Castiel has nothing to look back at (maybe the bedroom). Castiel carries the cardboard box with his itineraries out of the room, leaving the mattress and its sheets behind. Kevin most likely has plans for them.

He walks down with the large box in his hands after closing the door, moving and contorting his body awkwardly when he passes by strangers as he walks down the stairs. As he walks the last few steps, he falls down with the box on the ground, his body plopping on its stomach with a resounding thump. The contents of the box drop with a trace of now unfolded clothes, and Castiel winces at the sight and feeling that he’s experiencing. However, throughout the fall, he’s glad that the place was bereft of human beings.

He crouches his body and collects the queue of clothes, his face grimacing a bit as his body is still recovering from his fall. As he picks up the clothes, he sees a pair of jeans covered legs with desert boots. He blinks and narrows his eyes before looking up, and his mouth opens agape at the sight he sees before him. A man with an unamused look gaze down at him, and Castiel stands up with the clothes in hand, only to realize that it was the same man from the funeral in the exotic car. He’s no longer dressed in black and now he sports a casual look with a flannel covered by a black jacket. He’s quite built, almost as if he didn’t need to exercise to achieve such physique, or maybe it’s just the clothes giving illusion. However, Castiel is already sold on the fact that even without the layers, he’d still be far sculpted than he is. He’s just lucky that he isn’t some obese addict. The man gives him sort of a cold/bored look with his green eyes either disinterested or just to spite innocent-minded Castiel.

Castiel felt like his heart is at his throat, unable to understand why this man is giving him an act that resembles of a cold shoulder when they have never met before. Maybe he did notice that Castiel was staring at him more than the usual cursory glance, I mean, there is such a thing called peripheral vision. Even so, Castiel didn’t mean anything ill by his studying of people. His look is slightly discomfiting, almost like those CEO executives that will fire you for just staring.

He neither helps or talks to Castiel at all, and instead just walks away, leaving a befuddled Castiel alone. Castiel can’t help but feel hurt for the first time in his life due to such reaction from a civilian.

He bunches the clothes up together, and drops it inside the box without folding them. The box that Mary bequeathed him is still in there, so that brought consolation to Castiel’s heart. He picks the box back up, and turns to no longer see the man anymore. He walks on, and sees Kevin waiting for him. He smiles when he sees Castiel and all he could as response is just wave back with awkwardly, chucking the memory of the unknown man behind his head.

 

 


	5. Mind Your Own Business

Castiel carries the box to the bookstore, declining the kind (and almost persistent) offer of being helped by Kevin. It isn’t even _that_ heavy and Castiel is able to manage on his own. Daily activities resume as usual, with the people of Lawrence moving on from a great loss. Castiel ponders on how well do they really know Mary Winchester. Were they fond of her because of something or they just proffer sympathy to her because of the abandonment that she had gone through. Castiel is afraid to ask; he fears that he’d be lambasted for treading such a sensitive issue.

Kevin converses with Castiel, although Castiel single-handedly ends the conversation with his replies. Castiel can really tell that he’s not the kind to talk, and his one side of lips curls upward in guilt upon his newfound revelation. Kevin doesn’t mind though, as if awkwardness is a trait he has grown to become immune to. Castiel gives a tight-lipped look for having such outgoing personality. If only he could have that.

A truck is situated outside the bookstore, with people bringing in the furniture for the bookstore. Shelves with different carvings and shapes enter the building and Castiel wonders who called them. Surely, it wouldn’t be Mary. Castiel has had enough of the paranormal activities going around for one week. He’d like some normalcy for now. A shipment for books enter the store, and Castiel mentally groans at whether he has enough money to cover for the shipment, because reservations.

He sees another vehicle, a van specifically, carting boxes into the store. Kevin seems pleased, probably on how quick and proactive the movers or the fact that Castiel has gotten himself a job, a stable one too. It almost seems like multiple Christmas presents wrapped at once; more to him than Castiel, obviously. Passersby look really pleased of the upcoming opening of the bookstore, with some just looking eager - a little too eager - outside the store. A responsibility Castiel has not yet tested. He is going to work alone, and to shoulder the burden of the customers by his lonesome already sends palpitation to Castiel’s heart.

Castiel sighs.

The home of Mary’s - now Castiel’s - is still intact with a bed, stove and basic furniture like a sofa and a dining table. The rocking chair once used by Mary Winchester has been removed from the room, and Castiel stares at the spot where he had his last quiet and ambiguous meeting with the late Winchester.

He snaps out of his thought, before settling the box onto the dining table. The home is small, and the table has been compromised with a small one, big enough for two to three people. Anything more will have to resort to the living room as their dining room. The photos of Mary have too been removed from the walls, leaving the nails that are waiting for its next item to hang on, be it a corkboard or a photo album once more. Nothing looks dilapidated, so revamping won’t really be necessary. The windows slide open easily, giving Castiel full access to the view of the outside. At least this time, he won’t be staring a brick building, and his towel may dry fully.

Kevin takes his leave, giving Castiel a thumbs up; indicative that everything will run smoothly under his care. Castiel gives him a nod only, not really feeling the selfsame confidence Kevin has towards him. He sighs, unpacking the box of its contents and folds the clothes that he had forcefully chucked due to the stranger that gave him the cold shoulder. He neatly places it in the wardrobe, and smiles that his clothes finally have a proper home instead of the floor. He places his toiletries in the bathroom, and then removes the metal box and places the cardboard box outside his new home.

He takes the money out of the box, his mind already opting to buy some food and clothes. He then takes the key and goes to the door, testing it with the door. The latch slides out, and slides back in when he turns the key once more. He places the box closed under the bed, the same place Mary had kept it. He locks the door to his home, and goes down, only to see that the movers have gone already. He decides to not go into the bookstore, feeling that his basic necessities are of higher importance.

He walks to the store and his stomach rumbles at the sight of produce and poultry. He takes the basket and walks slowly to the aisles. He hasn’t gone around to know if he has the ability to cook, so he settled for something easy to make without having to cook them, with instant food being an exception. He knows that the kettles and pans have been voided in the home and with the money enough to support him for more than a month with the premeditated deliberation, Castiel may just be able to balance his life.

Castiel hopes that his expenditure doesn’t go over the roof, as the basket he is holding becomes heavier and he alternates his gripping of the basket almost regularly; the weight becoming unbearable for him to keep going. He clenches his jaw as he presses on, with his mind still determined to finish his purchase. If he thinks that carrying the basket is easy, wait till he gets them in paper bags.

He takes the mustard in his hand, and places it gently in the basket. He curses himself for not opting for the trolley. He _knew_ that he has just started his life, yet didn’t think of the ramifications of using a basket. He places the basket down on the floor, giving an audible sigh of relief when he finally feels the tension in his muscles leaving. He thinks for a moment, and walks away from the basket, decided that the journey to carrying his groceries will be as agonizing as carrying his purchases back home. And the store isn’t next door to his home, either.

He walks out of the counter, and takes the trolley slowly out of its line. He passes by the cashiers, and then returns to his basket, the contents now overflowing with products. He places the items slowly into trolley almost methodically, with the silverwares and kitchenware separated from the food, lest he wants to damage his hauls.

He moves on, and grabs the only the ones that interest him, like bread and some greens. His mind and tummy craves for a sandwich and the idea of feeling the mustard in his mouth brings his mouth salivating for its taste. He grabs the lettuces and the frozen hams, dumping them into the silver trolley. He pushes it, giving another round before he finishes his objective. Maybe a list would have been nice. Cereal, milk, canned foods and juices joined the party, and Castiel feels satisfied before going to the cashier. He places them on the conveyor, and lines them up as hears the beeping and whirring of the motioning conveyor. When he finally places all of his provisions, he waits for the beeping to end, with the cashier mechanically doing her job.

“$75.60,” the cashier says monotonously. Castiel looks down at his rolled up cash and takes a hundred out of it. He’s surprised, to be honest because he’s expected to finish at least half of his money, but inspecting it closely only brought his heart to a stall. The number of hundreds that there are in there is . . . well, a lot isn’t strong enough to describe it. The cashier boringly places it in the cash register, taking the changes and then dumping it in Castiel’s hand with the receipt. He pockets them, and then watches with his mouth opening and closing in speechlessness as the number of paper bags he has to bring back home. The cashier doesn’t seem to be bothered or concerned with the amount.

He gulps before hesitantly looking at the cashier, “I may need the trolley for this,”

The fridge door opens, and Castiel places his purchased stock into it with great attention being paid towards tidiness. He’s sweating, all because exhaustion played its part. Carrying the groceries up to the stairs without having his items stolen gave great way to Castiel’s endurance. The trolley was sent back, after all the groceries were placed inside his home. He returns to the store, with the cashier looking bored; almost as if she doesn’t mind if the trolley was stolen. He huffed exhaustingly at the thought.

He closes the fridge door once done, and then places the loaf of bread on the dining table. The silverwares and kitchenware are removed of their labels, dust and invisible germs, before being placed in their respective locations. He smiles as he can see his home growing to a home filled side. He folds the paper bags and then keeps them, saving them for future use. Looking at his home, he probably needs some bedsheets, along with some light entertainment. The bed is placed almost the same as the living room, as if the place has no walls to divide each section, except for the bathroom. Looking at it now, Castiel kinda enjoys the lack of walls, as he can see almost everything without having to open multiple doors.

He grabs the loaf of bread, and then with a knife; he takes a couple of slices, before grabbing the lettuce and peeling the leaves, washing them thoroughly. He grabs the frozen ham, with tomatoes and mustard. He complies them together, and cleans his mess, with the sandwich being worthwhile eaten in a clean environment. He sits down, before taking a bite of it.

Sure feels good to enjoy the company of oneself, because Castiel hasn’t had a great meal until now.

 

 


End file.
